


Wishing for Gold

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, F/F, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: When Charlotte returns to Becky's life and to Smackdown Live, they're both haunted by their past and their quest for championship gold. Weird dreams about leprechauns certainly don't help anything.





	Wishing for Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayebydan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayebydan/gifts).



The leprechaun kind of looked like Finn if Becky squinted, but that didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t supposed to be wrestling Finn OR a leprechaun; in fact, she was in an airport and late for her plane. But when she looked out the window all she saw were grassy hills.

“You’ll never get to the show now,” the not-quite-finn figure cackled.

“Like hell,” she said, dropping her bag. She closed with him and put her hands up. He grabbed them, testing her strength. They spun and knocked over a stack of chairs.

She kicked him and he elbowed her in the face. She spat blood and felt it wet on her face.

“I HAVE TO GET TO SUMMERSLAM,” she shouted, throwing him to the ground and jumping on him. She knelt on his back and pulled his arm up and towards her, locking in the Disarmer.

The figure flailed, and Becky felt every ounce of his tremendous strength. But she was stronger.

“Let me go and you’ll have your wish!”

“I don’t believe you,” Becky growled. “You’re wearing the face of my friend.”

“It’s a nice face,” the figure said. “What about this one.” In a blur, now Becky was wrenching the arm of someone who looked like a slightly melted version of Charlotte Flair.

“Don’t you want this?” Not!Charlotte said.

Becky ground her teeth. “I want gold,” she said. “That’s my wish.” And she let the creature go.

It withdrew and rolled away. “You’ll have gold around your waist in no time,” it said, melting into the crowd.

Becky felt her face. It was wet, and something was vibrating nearby. She felt around herself. It was her phone.

She opened her eyes. Six am, on a day in the middle of April. There was a lot of time to get to Summerslam. She wiped the drool from her chin with the back of her hand. Just a dream. Time to get up.

But the warped face of the creature she pinned to the ground in her dream followed her to the gym and the venue and all the way out to the ring. Gold, she had said. Gold, the creature had promised. And soon.

***

The announcement of the Superstar Shake-Up rippled through the locker room, everyone speculating about who was going where and how soon.

“Maybe I’ll see some old friends again,” Becky said to Naomi.

“As long as Jimmy stays put, I’m happy,” Naomi said, stirring her Diet Pepsi with a straw.

“Not Jey?”

She shrugged. “Some distance might be good for them, but you didn’t hear that from me,” she said. “You know how it goes. Spend all your time with someone and you get on each other’s nerves.”

“Yeah,” Becky said, thinking back to someone she had once spent a lot of time with, all of her time. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.

***

When Charlotte walked down that ramp. Before that. When her music hit. When the disco remix of Thus Spake Zarathustra hit the arena, Becky’s ears burned. She tried to cling to the sensation of the hot lights, the rub of her boots against her ankles, instead of being swept away by memories. It almost worked.

***

Becky was untaping her ribs in the locker room so she could shower when Charlotte walked in.

“Sup, Becks,” Charlotte said with brittleness.

“Another day, another dollar,” Becky said. “Another chance to get sent to the back of the line.”

“Nice to see you too.” Charlotte sat heavily down on a bench. There was a silence that stretched between them, punctuated by the rustling sounds of undress.

“What do you want me to do,” Charlotte said.

“Lose? You could lose, that would be fine. Choke on one of Naomi’s braids.”

Charlotte laughed at that. “Right.” She sat down and started unlacing her boots.

That silence again, and faraway sounds of laughter from some other part of the lockers, some other part of the roster.

“Who are you riding with these days?” Charlotte didn’t make eye contact.

“Myself, mostly.” Becky rolled her eyes. “Wait, do you--”

“Just wondering,” Charlotte cut in.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Becky said.

“I never asked you to,” Charlotte said. She examined her manicure, extending her long fingers and curling them close to her face. She chewed her lip.

“Is your number still the same,” Becky said.

Charlotte looked up. “Yeah,” she said, nodding.

***

“How come she gets everything and I get fucking nothing? A poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” Becky said, looking at Finn’s face through the FaceTime app in her phone. She perched on top of a stack of equipment boxes backstage.

“She gets a shot. That’s as much as anybody gets,” Finn said.

“But I was supposed to get the gold..any time now,” Becky said.

“What's that, love?” Finn asked, frowning.

“Just a dream I had. You were in it, kind of. And Charlotte.”

“You know you should tell her how you feel, Becks.”

“I don’t even feel that way anymore.”

“Your face is telling me otherwise.” He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of beer from a pint glass.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Isn’t that what FaceTime is for?”

“I should go,” Becky said. She swung her legs and watched people filter in from a distance. Charlotte always stuck out from the crowd, or at least towered over them. And then Charlotte caught her staring. And then she fucking winked.

Finn smiled. “Tell her I say hi.”

“Bastard.”

***

Main. Event. Of. Smackdown. Becky almost spat. But as Charlotte made her entrance looking like an empress Becky fought the spark of whatever it was that connected them.

But it wasn’t like Charlotte couldn’t put on a match. A barn burner. That moonsault. Even when you were under it, you almost wanted to be. (Almost.) (Under something.)

The Welcoming Committee, a real ripe bunch if Becky had ever seen one, seemed like they were making their move. Good luck, Becky thought, but three on one was quite an advantage for anyone.

Becky looked away for a second, and while she wasn’t looking, it happened. When she looked back at the monitor after hearing some yelling, the referee was raising Naomi’s hand.

There were a few low whistles throughout gorilla.

A rush of relief hit Becky, and also a thread of disgust. Was she allowed to feel this glad? She wasn’t big on cheering for cheaters, but it wasn't that long ago that Charlotte was playing the same game.

Maybe she did need to tell Charlotte how she felt.

***

Becky stuck her head into a mostly empty trainer’s room. She stepped through. Charlotte glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Look how the tables have turned,” Becky said.

“No, tell me about it. Or are you here to kick me in the ribs too? You’re late.”

“No. I’m not a cheater.” She paused. “Unlike you.”

Charlotte shrugged one shoulder. The other was immobilized by a lot of tape.

“Not that long ago that you would have been the one kicking...yourself down.”

“Sounds about right,” Charlotte said. “Are you done?”

“You’re not mad.” Becky squinted.

“What am I supposed to say? You’re right. I was a cheater. And a bitch. Hand me that ice pack.”

Becky grabbed it, cracking it in her hands and passing it to Charlotte, who put it on her shoulder and winced.

"Shouldn't the trainer be back here with you?" Becky asked.

"I kicked him out."

"You're not invincible, Charlotte. I know you used to think otherwise but--" Becky stopped herself. "But if you need your space. I'll see you later."

Before Charlotte could say anything else, Becky was out the door.

***

The opportunity to get back at Charlotte was there. It simmered for weeks at every show: one of them, Lana or Nattie or Carmella would sidle by.

“Becky, don’t you want to be on the winning team? For once?” Carmella twirled her hair and cocked her head.

“Becky, you want your revenge. I can see it in your eyes,” Natalya purred.

But her friends never really called her Becky, did they?

It all came to a head, because of course it did. The aftermath was a bit of a blur, but she ended up panting backstage with Charlotte and Naomi after joining the fight and fending off the others. Becky felt the stretch of Charlotte’s arms around her and she instinctively clutched back.

“You two have some ish to work out,” Naomi said cautiously. “I’ll leave you to it.”

They turned and looked at each other and realized how close they were.

Charlotte stepped back, folding her arms.

“What are we now?” Charlotte asked. “You…”

“I don’t turn my back on people,” Becky said.

“Becks,” Charlotte said gently. She seemed humbler than she had ever been, which still wasn’t very humble but. It was something.

“Got a ride next week?” Becky asked.

“Not yet,” Charlotte said with a small smile, kindling a small flame in Becky, a birthday candle, a single match, but something.

***

Riding together was something. It was disturbingly easy to share space, share drinks, share glances. They had a lot to catch up on.

“You know we’re in a cartoon,” Becky said, not taking her eyes off the road.

“No,” Charlotte said flatly. “No way.”

Becky widened her eyes and nodded. “It’s an anime.”

“How did I miss this,” Charlotte said.

“Because you missed this.” Becky jerked a thumb back, gesturing to herself.

Charlotte let out one barking laugh. “Yeah. I did.”

***

Of course they watched it as soon as they got to the hotel. They sat close, hovering over Becky’s iPad.

"Queen Elizabeth?" Charlotte asked, wounded. "Are they even trying? That's me! That’s totally me."

"That kind of looks like me," Becky said.

"That's you, look at that striped gear," Charlotte said, stuffing another handful of popcorn in her mouth. "Everyone on the internet says it's supposed to be you. I googled it."

"Oh, the internet," Becky said. "I've heard of that."

Charlotte sprayed a mouthful of chewed popcorn all over the black hotel room coffee table.

"Isn't that where the pornos are?" Becky continued. "All of them dirty pictures."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Charlotte said.

“Wouldn’t you,” Becky said, feeling a little warm.

“Maybe a little.” Charlotte shifted on the bed.

“Maybe a little.”

***

When it was time for them to get their revenge on the Welcoming Committee, they didn’t. Simple as that. Becky didn’t say anything on the whole ride back to the hotel. Tapped out to a sharpshooter? Her face burned with embarrassment and also probably some bruising. She was lost in her own thoughts.

"Here," Charlotte said, pressing a cold, wet rag to the bleeding corner of Becky's lip. It had broken back open since they got back to the hotel room.

"I'm sure there are more rooms," Becky said. "You don't have to stick around."

"I want to," Charlotte said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I lost the match, I lost it for us," Becky said.

"So?" Charlotte shrugged. "They'll get cocky and then they'll make a mistake. Let Natalya go home to her mansion full of cats. What did she win? Nothing."

"Air," Becky said, hiccuping.

"Handfuls of air, all the air she could ever want to carry over her shoulder."

"Air around her waist," Becky said, gesturing for the title.

"Speaking of," Charlotte said. She walked over to the balcony of the room and slid the door open, and a gust of wind stirred the curtains. "Now all we need is daylight."

"It'll come," Becky said.

***

And then  
And then  
And then gold, right? Becky cracked her toes inside her boots and pinched one arm with the fingers of the other, it wasn’t a dream, it was true. The first ever women’s Money in the Bank match and it had to be her time.

“It’s my time,” Charlotte said as soon as they were behind the black curtain.

Becky glared at her. “You’ve had your time,” she said.

Charlotte pressed her tongue hard into her cheek. “I’m never going to stop wanting it,” she said.

“Neither am I.” They were standing very close now. Becky could smell the honey-sweetness of Charlotte’s hair, and she made herself look away.

“Good thing it’s not the only thing I want,” Charlotte said.

***

It was a fragile truce but it lasted, better than Becky had expected. When their shoulders brushed filling up Big Gulps at the 7-11 near the venue, neither of them pulled away.

“Will you really be mad if I win?” Charlotte asked as they got into the car.

“Probably,” Becky said.

“More or less mad than if someone else wins. More than if Tamina wins?”

Becky bit her lip. She slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “Maybe the same amount.”

“Well that’s something,” Charlotte said.

“But. I’m not mad yet,” Becky said.

“Wow. We should celebrate.”

“Laser tag?” Becky asked. “Skee-ball? Pedicures? Sleep?”

“Is there a skee-ball place here?” Charlotte got out her phone as Becky pulled out of the parking lot. “Oh god, I think there's one in STL. It’s still open. We could get there.”

“The pay-per-view is tomorrow, Char,” Becky said.

“Then we should definitely celebrate,” Charlotte said. “We haven’t killed each other since I’ve been here.” She batted her eyelashes at Becky, who wasn’t sure if she doing it ironically. It didn’t matter; it worked.

***

They arrived at the questionable looking arcade and fun center, but it was warmly lit and moderately busy when they went in. Twenty dollars later they had blue Solo cup full of tokens.

“I never played this in Ireland,” Becky said. “In Chicago they have a league, you know that?” She wound up and rolled the ball underhand and into play. It rolled over a wooden ramp and leapt up into the 40 point hopper.

Charlotte was warm behind her. “We played it all the time as kids. Here, like this.” She guided Becky’s arm back.

“Are you giving me a sexy skee-ball lesson?” Becky asked. “We’re not even drunk.”

“We’re alive, and you’re talking to me. Flick your wrist…” Charlotte guided Becky in her wind up and release. The ball thudded and rolled into the zero point area.

“Oh come on!” Becky said, leaning into Charlotte.

“Okay, maybe I’m better at Marvel vs. Capcom,” Charlotte said, turning. They were face to face, and close.

“I don’t remember what that is,” Becky said, “but buy me a beer and you’re on.”

***

Becky lost at one arcade game and won another. It was hard to focus on making the little man kick and punch when she could be looking at Charlotte, fierce, crackling, sharp, and warm.

Charlotte drove Becky to the hotel, guided her up one flight of stairs with a palm at the small of her back.

“I’m not that drunk,” Becky said.

“Well, I’m not drunk at all,” Charlotte said.

They got the door open after a few attempts with the key card.

“I have to tell you something Charlotte,” Becky said.

“I’m sure now’s a great time,” Charlotte droned.

“It’s about gold.” Becky flopped face first down on the closer bed. “The leprechaun said I’d have gold any time now.”

Charlotte frowned. “Do you want some water?”

“He wasn’t real but it was a weird fuckin’ dream.”

“Well, I dreamed we were on a beach together and you gave me a bunch of wedding rings,” Charlotte said.

“Huh?” Becky turned and propped herself up on one elbow.

“Dumped a box of them over my head and then ran out into the water. You disappeared. Then there was a tornado.”

“Shit,” Becky said.

“Then I got traded to Smackdown,” Charlotte said.

“There’s still time,” Becky said.

“For what?” Charlotte asked.

But there was no answer. Becky had fallen asleep.

***

Not that many hours later, Becky found herself too heartbroken to speak, to even form words. Disgust and anger crawled under her skin. James Ellsworth stole their chance, ruined the match, and the refs said there was nothing they could do.

“We could kill him, that’s what we could do,” Charlotte said. “I could run him over with the rental. Maybe I could stomp on his throat! Then you could help.” She shoved her gear into her suitcase. “Fuck this.”

Becky swallowed to wet her dry throat. “It hurts to be cheated,” she said. She met Charlotte’s eyes with more significance than she intended, though maybe not more than she felt.

Charlotte shook her head. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I had no idea.” She slammed the top of her suitcase down. “Fucking dammit. I never knew.”

Becky put her hand over Charlotte’s.

Charlotte turned her palm over and they laced their fingers together.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Becky asked.

“Let’s get out of here,” Charlotte whispered.

The show went on around them as they bailed on the arena, left the parking garage, hit the hotel.

The door to the room clicked shut.

They stared at each other. A bruise was starting to rise above Charlotte’s left eye, and Becky hadn’t showered or washed her makeup off. She sniffled and peeled off her fake lashes, flinging them away.

It was Charlotte who moved first, her hands finding Becky’s waist.

Becky leaned in, her face resting on Charlotte’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

Becky looked up and as she did, their faces brushed, nose to nose. From there it was almost nothing for their lips to touch, Charlotte’s warm and soft against Becky’s.

They stayed that way, body pressed to body, until Charlotte withdrew, looking as unsure as Becky has ever seen her.

Becky took a few steps backward and sat down on the bed.

Charlotte arched an eyebrow.

“Come here, let me see your lovely face,” Becky said softly.

"Lovely," Charlotte said. "Me and my big mole. Even my action figures have the mole."

"Lovely," Becky drawled.

Charlotte sat down next to her, tucking one knee under her.

Becky put her hands on Charlotte's face. "I missed seeing it, I missed all of this."

"I hurt you," Charlotte said.

"A lot of people hurt me," Becky frowned. "We're in the business of that."

"But--"

But Becky stopped her with a finger to her lips. "I know whatcha mean. And maybe you'll hurt me again. But I don't care right now."

Charlotte's forehead crinkled in confusion.

“I can like you without forgiving you,” Becky said. “I could even love you.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Charlotte sighed. “I’m counting my blessings every minute this doesn’t turn into a headscissors and then an armbar.”

“Oh, would you like that?” Becky asked with a grin.

“Not now, just let me…” Charlotte smoothed Becky’s hair back behind her ear. She kissed her with eyes pressed closed, hard, tongue tracing the crease between her lips, hands pulling her close.

They discarded clothes as they went, long limbs tangling.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Becky said. “Charlotte.” She said her name like she was kissing the words. “Charlotte.”

“Oh my god,” Charlotte cried as Becky got a knee between her thighs and ground hard.

They moved as one body, exploring and tasting everything that had been denied, screaming everything that had been unsaid.

“Can I please,” Charlotte said, drawing backwards, running a finger through Becky’s wetness.

“Yes,” Becky breathed.

Charlotte buried her face between Becky’s legs, and all Becky could see was the cascade of gold draped over her, Charlotte’s hair obscuring her wicked tongue.

As Becky moaned her pleasure out, she thought back to her dream. Gold around her waist. She laughed and hiccuped and moaned and screamed. She thought: sometimes you do get what you wish for.


End file.
